Autism, masking and ageing. A personal view.

 

Recently at work in my studio – exploring images of childhood in film.

This post  is about both ageing and masking. Masking can be a difficult subject as some autistics can’t mask their autism, and those of us who can often wish we didn’t have to, and yet we may depend on masking to get by. Masking overall is not really a choice though in some circumstances we can chose to unmask ourselves. We may also just be unmasked by circumstances – and this can be deeply confusing and humiliating. It is both a relative privilege and a survival strategy. Yet however important masking can be in mediating aspects of autistic challenge in neuro-normative spaces it is also pernicious in it’s effects on us.

Revealing autism and unmasking are not entirely the same thing in my view – and this is worth pointing out. One of the difficulties we face is that to talk about being autistic we must often use our masks and perform as neurotypicals. To ‘act autistic’ is another level of communication about who we are. Unmasking is a complex negotiation of self in relation to others which may need to take place over time and may never be a complete or finite entity.

Understanding and finding a balance in masking autism is a real challenge for me. I’d like to share aspects of my recent experiences. Please do feel free to comment – I’d love to know how other autistics manage this.

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There’s been a huge amount for me to process lately. SO vast is the task of navigating the world as a relatively new autistic that at times I simply buffer. Some days I’m not exactly engaging with life – I’m beach-balling like my overstuffed laptop.

Someday soon I need to empty content. It’s reached that dangerous tipping point where the cursor acts up and jiggles uncontrollably. This is a sure sign of near laptop meltdown – I should delete or transfer as much as possible to an external hard drive.

And so it is with life. I’m clearing out cupboards – in the hope of making space to think more clearly and get through my days with more ease. In the area of clothing this feels vital. Less will be more surely? Garments that have lain around for years – high on promise and low on actual wearability – must go. I look at them with new eyes. They belong pre-diagnosis when I didn’t know myself. What versions of me hang therein? None I now recognise.

I put them in a bin bag ready for donation – crossing all my fingers. May they go to a good home! May their departure lighten my load! I want to stop all this damn buffering.

Just lately I’ve been coming up against my limitations in more tangible ways. The gaps in functioning provoked by some of my recent escapades have pushed me to my limits. This has been painful – more challenge in my life means facing my invisible disabilities head on. Adjustment is constant – there is no official support for my situation.

Also – I grow old.

I’m on a species of cusp so to speak. I’m in the run up to a brave new decade, and contemporary culture demands women declare each decade the new previous decade. We’re not allowed to age visibly without dismissal.

So as women we must join the race to be younger, more energetic, and ever more positive versions of ourselves than before if we don’t want to be deleted. If you’re a late diagnosed (masked) autistic woman it’s a double whammy as we’ve been invisible all along!

I simply feel old. This is desperately unfashionable, I do know this. I should be scaling mountains and learning to yodel! This is so never going to happen, in case of doubt.

As a woman of 25 I felt ancient too (at times). Being autistic makes for vast differences in perception and sensory experience – which is often plain exhausting at any age. I must remind myself that I may not always feel quite so compromised – I will eventually find some bounce back, I usually do.

But it’s the cross over in ageing with late diagnosed autism I’m running up against. My body is slower, and the gaps in functioning feel more solid somehow. I hit the wall ever sooner. My spoons simply do just run out.

How this relates to my newfound reluctance to ‘mask’ I don’t know, but the pain and humiliation around masking is greater since my diagnosis two years ago  – I don’t want to mask anymore. Yet unmasking is not always practical or useful (let’s be honest here it’s not called privilege for nothing). I have so much left to do both creatively speaking and as a mother – all of which mean I must be out in the world.

I need a better strategy, but what?

In recent days I’ve rehearsed unmasking scenarios in my head for those brick wall moments. Unmasking on public transport for example (I now realise) requires a conversation. This is often beyond me in extremis and so I tend to push through.

At times can I barely keep my mask in place and deep sense of alienation haunts me  during and after highly stressful situations. Revealing my autism might at least bring kindness and relief, I sometimes hope. Yet the risk that I’ll be met by miscomprehension and even cruelty (however casual) is great.  Condescension, dismissal and denial are also common reactions. This is what makes masking a privilege.

It’s a negative feedback loop which can erode a person’s sense of self and self-worth, really it can.

This deep instinct to mask is brought about by fear. It’s an adaptation for social survival. So how exactly do we drop it?

Age should bring us wisdom passed down the generations.

But we’re both the lost and the pioneer generation – we have to work this out for ourselves. That’s tough – there’s no way round this.

I long to be kickass about masking, but this doesn’t really suit my personality. This would simply be another mask. As I write this I feel relief. One more pressure I can drop like a hot coal.

I want to end this post by focusing on the good stuff. We are making change happen as a community little by little.

Earlier this week I was met with the most extraordinary kindness in unmasking my autism to a new colleague – genuine dialogue can happen. Last week I also appeared on an exciting panel at Kent University, Autistic Women, Feminism and the Arts, with the most brilliant autistic women both masking and unmasked.

On an individual level for those who have masked to survive, masking, as I say in my introduction, is a daily negotiation. We shouldn’t underestimate the struggle this represents and the level of ignorance we face which often blocks us.

Campaigns to unmask ourselves are a wonderful thing, if this works for you. The potential for such dialogue to further our cause in the mainstream engenders hope in me. Such campaigns, at the very least, can rally us and strengthen us at both individual and community level. With luck it can open other minds to the challenges of being autistic via authentic voices.

But I want to say to those who may feel pressure and confusion after so very many years of masking – masking can be okay as a strategy. After a lifetime, you might not even know where masking begins and ends in your psyche. I myself am not sure about this. Habits and adaptations are etched into us over time.

Until we come up with something better masking is sometimes all we have.

Because I’m older I have to practice patience about wider change. It may not come in my lifetime but nothing will convince me that the neuro-revolution is not on its way.

 

 

 

 

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